Beware The Red Wolf
by Hunter-Of-Aliens
Summary: When Sam and Dean discover a teenager hunting on her own during the apocalypse, Sam decides she's not allowed to hunt on her own. Between avoiding angels, uncovering her past, and stopping the apocalypse, the three have their hands full. Canon compliant. Rated T for violence and canon level swearing.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Here's the first chapter of my rewrite of my story "She's Talking to Angels". I'm much more confident in this one and I like it much better and it's just better written.

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The train jerked to a halt, slamming the sleeping girl from her dreams and into the seat in front of her. She stood up quickly, shouldering her backpack. Moving into the aisle, she reached for the overhead compartment where her duffle bag was stored. A delicate hand met rough canvas and the olive green bag came tumbling down. Throwing her other hand up on instinct, she caught the bag before it hit the floor. She threw it over her other shoulder after slipping the other backpack strap on. After filing out of the train car along with the other passengers. The girl walked up to the ticket window and requested directions to the least expensive motel in town. After being told that the Sky Top Motel had low rates and was only a mile away, she thanked the attendant and began her hike.

Upon reaching the motel, she discovered why it had such low rates. The door was half off it's hinges and the shingles were falling off the roof. She eyed it warily but felt the small roll of bills in her pocket. She pushed the door open carefully and walked up to the desk. She rang the desk bell and waited for someone to show up.

"Hello! Anyone here?" she called after five minutes with no service. She heard some banging around behind the swinging doors in the wall behind the desk. A scrawny boy walked out, pushing his glasses back up on his nose. He had a styrofoam packing peanut stuck in one of the dark curls of his hair.

"One room, five nights please," she requested.

"What type, we have suite, two queens, one full…" the boy rattled off.

"What's cheapest?" she interrupted.

"The full, it's forty dollars a night."

"Great, I'll take that," she confirmed.

"That's two hundred dollars," he stated. The girl dug two-hundred dollar bills out of her jacket pocket and slammed them down on the desk. The boy passed over a room key and the girl thanked him before marching down the hall to her temporary home.

Most motels she stayed in were decorated gaudily, and this one was no exception. Sky print wallpaper clashed with the sweet potato orange shag rug that the seventies had forgotten to take with it, along with a sunset print bedspread. Wrinkling her nose, she dropped her bags on the bed and pulled out her laptop, which immediately connected to the wifi she had paid an extra twenty dollars for. She pulled research out of her bag and began looking through it. During recent the full moons, six students at the local high school had died after football games. With the limited information that was released, she was able to piece together that four of the six had been missing their hearts, therefore she suspected the killings were werewolf related. She scratched out notes and tacked them to the wall. She pulled out a small ball of twine and began connecting parts of the stories that overlapped.

"They were all killed at about the same time. After a home football game. There haven't been instances at away meets so it's probably a town resident or faculty at the school," she mused. Struck with sudden realization, she quickly leaned over her keyboard, searching a football schedule. There was a home game in three days. The full moon was tomorrow. She sighed and prayed the monster took no other victims before flopping down on the bed, salt lines intact around the room. Headlights shone through the thin curtains, accompanied by the purring of a well kept classic engine. Smiling at the thought of what car it could be, she fell asleep.

The next three days were spent in a library digging through tax and employment records of the faculty at the school. Half an hour before the game was about to start, she began walking to the high school. Coughing up the six dollars for admission, she sat in the corner of the bleachers, where she could clearly see anyone who left the game. The game didn't interest her, nor did the people surrounding her, though she interested them. The group of girls sitting behind her whispered about how she seemed to be at the game alone. Once the team took the field however, the mystery girl was forgotten in favor of their boyfriends on the field. As the home team won, a cheer flew up from the crowd. The girl slipped out among the celebration, apologizing to people she bumped into along the path to the exit. She chose to hide behind the equipment shed, where she had a clear view of the woods.

A symphony of shots rang out of the woods after about ten minutes. She crouched lower behind the shed before realizing that she was in no danger. At that realization, she took off running into the woods. Both hands on her gun, she ducked under pine boughs and hurdled over fallen trees. Upon seeing the light from flashlights, she burst through the trees with her gun raised and uncocked. Two men, both significantly taller than her, raised their guns at her. In the tense standoff that occurred in the moments following, she sized up her challengers. Both had at least six inches on her and were built like brick walls. They dressed in layers of clothing that looked like it had come out of a Nirvana music video. One had a military regulation haircut, while the other looked to be preparing for a movie role as a surfer. They each had a gun, small, easy to conceal pistols.

"Drop the gun," the one with the military haircut ordered. The surfer shifted his position in order to expose less of his body. The girl took a step back. She heard a low, angry growl. The branches behind her rustled and she took another step back. The surfer opened his mouth to say something but was silenced with a closed fist held up by the girl. She backed up until she could feel the creature's breath on the back of her neck, causing her hairs to stand on end. She planted one foot and spun around. Her finger tightened on the trigger. She felt four knife like claws rip open her shoulder and down her back. The bullet fired from her gun embedded itself in the monster's muscular chest. The werewolf toppled backwards, shifting back into human as he fell. The girl turned around, clutching her empty hand to her bleeding shoulder.

The two men looked at her in a mixture of suspicion and surprise. Suddenly, the surfer began to move in realization. She backed up one step for every step he took forward.

"Leave me alone," she ordered as she pressed the cuts harder.

"That needs to be looked at," he countered gesturing to her shoulder. She scoffed and told him she could fix her own problems. She turned away to walk back to the motel. The surfer followed her for a little ways.

"You're not going to leave me alone are you?" she observed, "If you want to stitch it up that bad, let's get this over with." He led her back to the site of the werewolf killing. She deliberately avoided looking at the body, knowing that her stomach wouldn't take it. She allowed herself to be escorted out of the woods to the poorly paved road that ran through the middle of the forest. Standing there was the other man, with a first aid kit ready.

"We're taking her back to the motel," the surfer decided.

"Oh no, she's not getting in baby with her shoulder bleeding that badly," the man with the military cut argued. The surfer threw the shorter man a bitchface and grudgingly, the one who refused to let her get stitched up at the motel dug a clean-ish towel from the trunk. He handed it to her and she applied pressure to the wound, the towel almost immediately turned crimson.

The ride back to the motel was tense as the girl tried to avoid passing out. With encouraging words from the surfer, she made it to their motel room. The surfer pulled her jacket off and asked her if she was comfortable with her taking her t-shirt off.

"Ye-yeah, I've got a tank top on," she gasped as the t-shirt aggravated the wounds. The man cut it away gently, and applied pressure with a gauze pad. The other man began packing up all weapons and supplies in the room. The girl's wounds were cleaned with a clean rag and began to stitch the wound closed. He bandage wrapped the stitches and let the girl know he was done.

"Hey Sammy, we gonna leave tonight or in the morning," the one packing up asked.

"Wait 'til morning, I'm not up for a car ride," the surfer–Sammy–answered, "Dean, outside, can I talk to you?" The two men stepped outside the door and closed it. The girl stood up slowly and began to walk around the room, examining the objects yet to be packed. Papers tacked to the wall regarding the killings, salt lines along the doors and windows, and a bottle of holy water resting on the table.

Outside, the two men were illuminated by a flickering light.

"Sam, what are you doing? For all we know she could be a demon or a spy for the angels," Dean exclaimed.

"She's barely an adult!" Sam replied, "And she's not a demon because I washed her cuts with holy water."

"What about the angels? How do we know we aren't going to have to deal with that Zack dick again?" Dean responded.

"Would it kill you to trust someone?' Sam questioned. There was no malice in his voice, only pure curiosity. He knew Dean didn't trust easy. He had issues after Ruby, especially with anyone new. Bobby had relayed the story about his first encounter with Castiel and how Dean had jammed the demon killing knife into Castiel's chest.

"No. no!" Dean confirmed.

"Good. Then we're going to get her somewhere safe, Bobby's hopefully," Sam suggested. Dean nodded and flicked his pointer finger at Sam's chest. The two walked back into the room to see the girl examining the demon killing knife Sm had left on his nightstand.

"What is this thing?" she asked as she ran her finger over the runes carved into the blade. Dean walked up and snatched it out of her hands.

"It's a demon killing knife," he explained as he stuck it in his back pocket. The girl began to laugh before stopping due to a shot of pain from the cuts.

"You can't kill a demon, only exorcise them!" she exclaimed, "Right?"

"Not true at all, and right now, you're getting out of hunting for a while to do some of the behind the scenes work," Dean explained.

"And why would I do that?" she asked.

"Because, you're too young to be hunting on your own and you're reckless," Sam stated.

"And why do you get to decide my future?" she questioned.

"Because if you keep using yourself as werewolf bait you won't have a future," Dean explained.

"Where am I going?" she asked. Sam told her about Bobby's house and what the old hunter did.

"Sounds boring, I'll keep doing field work," the girl replied and walked toward the door.

"If you're that insistent, you're not doing it alone," Sam stated as he stepped in her path.

"Sam we're not doing this," Dean argued.

"Bobby or us, its your choice," Sam directed at the girl.

"Fine, I'll go with you. Just drop me off at the Sky Top Motel, I need to get my stuff," the girl decided with a huff.

"We're here. You've got fifteen minutes to be out in the lobby and ready to go," Dean ordered as the girl left the room.

"Are you nuts Sam? We're in the middle of the goddamn apocalypse and you want to start baby sitting?" Dean snapped. Sam looked at him in shock and began to start packing up the remainder of their stuff.

"Dean she's inexperienced and you saw her, she was moving _towards_ the werewolf," Sam replied.

"So a lot of hunters do that kind of stuff," Dean responded.

"I don't think she's of drinking age yet," Sam stated. Dean froze for a second.

"Do you think she grew up in the life?" Dean questioned.

"I don't think so. If she had, she wouldn't be hunting solo," Sam observed as he powered off his laptop and put it in his backpack. The brothers did a final sweep of the room, making sure nothing was left behind and then swept the salt out the door. They walked into the lobby to find the girl waiting at the desk with a bulky sweatshirt covering her bandages and her bags on the floor at her feet along with her shredded jacket.

"Brianna Wilson checking out," she told the clerk once he finally showed up. They talked briefly over her getting her payment back because she was leaving early. She finally got forty dollars back, thanked the clerk and threw her bags over her good shoulder and held her jacket.

After checking out themselves, Sam and Dean led Brianna to the car. Her eyes widened in shock at seeing the car for the first time when she wasn't concentrated on staying conscious. She drank in the view of the classic car as if she was afraid it would disappear. Dean told her to hurry up so she threw her duffle in the backseat and then slid in after it. As Dean started the car, she asked where they were going. Dean told her they were on their way to Bobby's when Sam's phone rang. After a brief conversation Sam told Dean about how Bobby had found a possible case. Bear chased a guy through his house, apparently it was worth investigating.

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A/N: Hope you liked it, tell me you opinion in the comments


	2. Chapter 2

Brianna lounged on the couch of Sam and Dean's motel room with her laptop burning up her thighs. Several tabs regarding the case were open along with the email she was composing. The door opened and Dean walked through. Bri relaxed and lowered the gun she had drawn.

"Are you always this jumpy?" he asked as he pulled out Sam's laptop and shucked his suit jacket off. He sat down at the table as Bri provided a shoulder shrug in response to his question.

"So what are you looking at?" Dean asked as the laptop booted up.

"Coroner's report and police report. What did you learn from the police?" she responded as she stuck the gun back in the waistband of her jeans.

"Well, his wife claims it was the Incredible Hulk," Dean stated. More confused than she had been at the start of the case she sighed and bent back over the arm of the couch to stretch her back.

A little while later, Sam walked through the door after investigating the crime scene. Sam mentioned how there had been hoards of candy wrappers at the scene, Dean pieced together the information. Bri had found the victim's police report, and he had several accounts of assault under his belt.

"You're sure it's the trickster?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I mean, screwing with assholes before he kills them, candy wrappers at the scene of the crime, I don't see who else it could be," Sam guessed.

"Good. I've wanted to gank that mother since Mystery Spot," Dean stated.

"You sure?" Sam replied apprehensively.

"Yeah I'm sure," Dean replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"No, I mean are you sure you want to kill him," Sam quipped as Bri watched the exchange with curiosity.

"Son of a bitch didn't think twice about icing me a thousand times," Dean responded.

"Wait, what happened?" Bri asked

"The trickster killed me a couple hundred times on a Tuesday to try to teach Sam a lesson," Dean replied.

"Which is why we should talk to him," Sam explained.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Think about it Dean, he's one of the most powerful creatures we've ever met. I've never seen an angel do a time loop. Maybe we can use him," Sam observed.

"For what?" Dean asked incredulous.

"Trickster's a Hugh Hefner type, right? Wine, women, song–maybe he doesn't want the party to end. Maybe he hates this angels and demons stuff as much as we do. Maybe he'll help us," Sam explained.

"That's a lot of maybes," Bri interjected.

"You're serious," Dean stated immediately after her.

"Yeah, and yeah, I know it's a risk, but I feel that it's one we can take," Sam responded.

"Ally with the trickster," Dean confirmed.

"Yeah," Sam replied.

"A bloody, violent monster and you wanna be Facebook friends with him? Nice Sammy," Dean commented.

"The world is gonna end Dean. We don't have the luxury of a moral standard. I'm just saying it's worth a shot. Look, if it doesn't work out, we'll kill him," Sam emphasized. Dean sighed heavily and Bri shut down her laptop and putting it on the table next to Dean's.

"How are we going to find him?" Bri asked.

"He never takes just one victim, we'll find him," Sam assured the occupants of the room.

Dean sat on the couch next to Bri, showing her how to properly sharpen a wooden stake. His were smooth and even, hers looked more like a tree branch sharpened with a rock. Sam was listening to the police scanner intently. When a report that sounded strange came through, the hunters piled into the Impala and drove to the location of the report.

Upon arriving at the warehouse and finding no one, not even a police car, Brianna was filled with a sense of dread.

"There was a murder here, and there's no police cars. There's nobody. How's that look to you?" Dean asked.

"Crappy," Sam muttered as Dean handed him and Brianna a stake. They all walked up to the door and on Sam's count, barged into the building.

Contrary to the abandoned storage warehouse the had been expecting, they all found themselves in a hallway wearing scrubs.

"What the hell?" Dean asked.

"Doctor," a blonde nurse passing by commented.

"Doctor," the asian nurse stated.

"Doctor?" Sam asked. Dean turned around to open the door they had just entered through. The Impala and rainy northern California weather had been replaced with a storage closet that contained two people involved in a heated make out session. A brunette doctor walked away from the reception desk and she slapped Sam. Her nametag read 'Dr. Piccolo'. Dean and Bri winced in sympathy.

"Ow!" Sam exclaimed.

"Seriously?" the doctor asked.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Seriously? You're brilliant, you know that? And a coward. A brilliant coward," Dr. Piccolo reprimanded.

"Um, what are you talking about?" Sam questioned before receiving another slap.

"As if you don't know," Doctor Piccolo snapped. She stormed off leaving three very confused hunters standing in the hallway.

"I don't believe it," Dean commented.

"Believe what?" Brianna asked.

"That's Doctor Piccolo," Dean observed.

"Who?" Sam asked.

"Dr. Ellen Piccolo. The sexy, yet earnest doctor at," Dean paused in shock to point out the sign, "Seattle Mercy Hospital!"

"Dean, what the hell are you talking about?" Sam questioned in serious confusion.

"The doctor getups. The, the sexy interns. The 'seriously's'. It all makes sense," Dean explained.

"No, it really doesn't," Bri stated dryly.

"We're in Dr. Sexy MD."

After determining that the trickster had actually trapped them in TV land, Bri was dragged away by a nurse, saying she was needed in the morgue. The hunter's face had turned ashy. She entered the frigid room reluctantly and nearly gagged at the chemically embalming fluid smell. There was a middle aged man lying on an exam table.

"Nurse Wilson scrub up, autopsy in ten," one of the morticians ordered. Bri froze. She backed out of the room slowly and once she reached the wall opposite the morgue and sunk down. Her entire body shook and her breathing shallowed out until she was getting almost no oxygen. A hand clamped down on her injured shoulder and Bri's head shot up instantly, and she scooted away.

"Nurse, why aren't you in there?" the doctor, his name tag read Palmer, questioned harshly. Bri stuttered slightly before scrambling up and running away down the hall. After looking in three storage closets, all occupied by couples, Bri settled for the abandoned boiler room. She dug around in her pockets until she found her cellphone. Pulling up her contact list, she dialed the second number on the list.

The call went straight to voicemail and her phone disappeared in a fizzle of static. She looked at where it had been incredulously. She stood up quickly and left the boiler room. Turning toward where she remembered the main lobby to be, she ran into a wall of solid muscle.

"I'm so sorry, I just, I need to get out of here," she muttered. She sidestepped the doctor and he retaliated, blocking her path again. She looked up at him in frustration.

"I don't believe you do," he responded, "You're needed in the morgue." Bri allowed herself to be reluctantly lead into the morgue. With hesitation, she approached the corpse. In an instant, it turned to her mother lying dead on the floor and then back to the man. The mortician requested the scalpel and Bri handed it to him with shaking hands. The next half hour was spent in a haze of organs, skin, and flashbacks for Bri. Just as she was blacking out, the scenery changed.

Bri found herself in the back row of a game show audience with Sam and Dean as the contestants. She stood up and tried to get to them. The crowd held her back.

"Let's play Nutcracker!" the host exclaimed. He asked a question in Japanese. Sam and Dean had an animated discussion for the duration of the twenty seconds while the clock ran down. When the timer reached zero, the ball on a stick came up and hit Sam in the nuts. He leaned back in his bindings, gasping in pain. Dean looked sympathetic and the crowd cheered. One of the women on the game stage pulled the host aside with a product in her hand. Bri watched the doors open in a haze of fog and a man in a trenchcoat walked out. The crowd erupted in cheers.

"Cas?" Dean asked.

"Is this another trick?" Sam questioned. Cas informed the brothers that they had been missing for several days. Dean requested to get out of there and as the man reached up to presumably get the brothers out of there, Cas disappeared in a burst of static.

"No, no, no, no. Mr. Trickster does not like pretty-boy angels," the game show host mentioned, "Dean Winchester." As the host asked the question, Bri watched Dean's face turn from concern to complete panic. As the clock ran out, Dean buzzed in and delivered the answer in Japanese. As the crowd cheered, Bri stood up and waved her arms to get the brothers attention. Sam saw her and mouthed "play your role" as Dean gave a sheepish wave.

Bri found herself on a beach in nothing but a bikini when the scene blurred and changed to a lakefront view. Looking around, she saw a bunch of other people around her age laughing and playing beach volleyball. A cooler lay open on the sand, filled with Pepsi.

"Hey Bri, come join us!" one of the guys shouted motioning for Bri to play with them. Bri looked at him in confusion. Sam's words came back to her telling her to play her role. With a frustrated sigh. She ran over with a fake smile plastered on her face and joined in the game.

"Drink Pepsi. Refresh everything," a voice over stated. The boys picked Brianna up and carried her across the dock to the lake and threw her in. As she sunk to the bottom, her world blurred and she found herself blinded by bright white light. Searing pain shot through her chest, concentrated on her ribs.

When she dared open her eyes, she was standing inside the motel room she had rented, only it was painfully bright. She heard voices from Sam and Dean's room and walked through the adjoining door.

"Listen to me. Something's not right. This thing is much more powerful than it should be," the man from earlier, Cas, explained. Applause from the audience rang out as Bri entered the room. She looked around in confusion and made eye contact with Cas.

"Who is this?" Cas asked in a mixture of confusion and disgust.

"Bri. She's a hunter we picked up during a werewolf hunt," Sam explained.

"And, is, is it the trickster?" Dean asked.

"If it is a trickster," Cas commented.

"What?" Sam asked as Cas was thrown back into the wall. The trickster walked through the door with a cheery greeting and a happy smile. The audience cheered. Cas sat up with a piece of duct tape over his mouth.

"Thank you! Thank you ladies!" the trickster smiled while blowing kisses to the audience, "Hi Castiel!" The trickster waved his hand at Cas who disappeared in a fizzle of static. Sam and Dean asked questions simultaneously. The trickster gave a vague answer. Bri had been subtly sneaking up on the demigod and once she was within range, slapped him across the cheek. He gave no reaction. Bri however, doubled over, clutching her right hand.

"That was for Wichita," she gasped. The trickster thought for a moment then made a face of realization.

"You were the hunter who came after me with a shotgun and an iron knife right?" he confirmed. Bri nodded and spat out the response that she had thought he had been a spirit.

"Alright, that's enough we get it," Dean commented.

"Get what?" the trickster asked.

"Playing our roles, right? That's your game?" Dean questioned. The trickster informed the hunters that they were half right and told them to play their roles as vessels. Upon learning this information, Bri took a break from nursing her hand to look at Sam and Dean incredulously.

"You want us to say yes to those sons of bitches?" Sam questioned incredulously.

"Hells yeah! Let's light this candle!" the trickster exclaimed.

"We do that, the world will end," Sam stated. Dean quickly became frustrated when the trickster proclaimed he wasn't picking a side.

"Don't you _ever _presume to know who I am. Now listen very closely. Here's what's going to happen. You're gonna suck it up, accept your responsibilities and play the roles destiny has chosen for you," the trickster snapped, slamming Dean into the wall.

"What about me. Last time I checked, destiny had crap planned for me," Bri stated, drawing the angry pagan god's attention away from Dean.

"Destiny's prepared to really screw you over, and if any of you don't decide to play, enjoy three hundred channels of TV land, with nothing on," the trickster threatened. He snapped his fingers, throwing the Winchesters and Bri to opposite channels.

While Bri silently cursed the trickster, she observed her surroundings. It was cold and ahead of her was a brightly lit area. She took a step forward and nearly fell. Leaning against the nearest cement wall, she found that she was standing on ice skates. Her outfit perfectly mimicked the one she had worn at her first performance. She realized where she was and made her way toward the light. There was another skater finishing her routine and Bri bit her lip. The girl finished her performance and the zamboni smoothed the ice. At the announcers prompting, Bri skated to the center of the ice just like she remembered. She stopped with slight difficulty before the music started. Having no knowledge of the choreography she needed to do, she opted to keep it simple and improvise to the music, some classical score she had never heard before. Just as she was reaching up into a Y-spin position, the lights went out.

Her motel room bed was horribly uncomfortable and Bri opted to get out of it. She heard bumbling coming from Sam and Dean's room and grabbed her gun before going to investigate. She opened the door and found Dean looking around with a toothbrush in his hand.

"You seen Sam?" he asked. Bri shook her head no. "Impala leaves in ten, we're going looking for him." Bri nodded and disappeared back into her room. After arming herself, she left the room and started leaning against the Impala while she waited for Dean. He walked out of the motel room, on his phone. He unlocked the car, got in and unlocked it for Bri.

"Sam. It's me, where the hell did you go?" Dean said before snapping his phone shut. He sighted in frustration and rubbed his eyes.

"What happened?" Bri asked.

"We killed the trickster and now Sam's missing," Dean grumbled.

"Dean?" Sam's voice asked. Bri looked to the back seat.

"Sam where are you?" Dean asked. Sam responded that he didn't know now then Dean noticed a red flashing light on the dashboard. He hit Bri lightly on the shoulder with the back of his hand a few times he gestured to the light and Bri looked at him confused.

"Oh crap, I don't think we killed the trickster," Sam stated. The lights flashed in time with his words. Dean sighed and started the car.

"Okay, so the stake didn't work. So, what's this, another trick?" Dean guessed. Sam voiced his doubts about the thing being a trickster and the three debated his reaction to Dean bringing up Michael and Lucifer.

"Son of a bitch," Dean breathed.

"What?" Sam and Bri asked in unison.

"I think I know what we're dealing with," Dean commented. He pushed the accelerator faster Bri leaned back and sighed.

While Dean rummaged around in the trunk in an attempt to hide the jar he had gotten out, Bri considered what Sam and Dean had told her. They had both been injured during the time they had spent in the other parts of TV land, yet she had never been physically injured. Other than the doctor grabbing her injured shoulder and holding a bit too tight and the burning in her ribs which she had deduced was from a lack of oxygen. She rolled the shoulder a bit and winced as she pulled the stitches. The worst she ended up with was a little mental trauma and some bittersweet memories of when both her parents were alive. She turned around at Dean's shouting to the trickster about how they gave up, they'd play their roles. The trickster appeared and turned Sam back to himself. Dean posed the question of why the stake didn't kill the trickster again and dropped his lighter on the circle of holy oil after the trickster blatantly lied to his face.

The trickster laughed and clapped his hands as the park phased out to static.

"Well played, where'd you get the holy oil?" the trickster asked.

"Wait, what's holy oil?" Bri questioned. Dean told her it trapped angels and left it at that, then responding to the trickster, "Well, you might say we pulled it out of Sam's ass."

"So, where'd I screw up?" the trickster–or rather angel–asked.

"You didn't. Nobody gets the jump on Cas like you did," Sam explained.

"Mostly it was the way you talked about Armageddon," Dean added. Confused, the trickster asked for clarification.

"Well call it personal experience, but no one gets that angry unless they're talking about their family," Dean stated.

"So which one are you? Grumpy, Sneezy or Douchey?" Sam questioned.

"Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel," the trickster now revealed angel stated.

"Gabriel? Like the archangel?" Bri asked. Gabriel shrugged and confirmed it.

"Okay Gabriel, how does an archangel become a trickster?" Dean asked.

"My own private witness protection program! I skipped out of heaven, had a face transplant, carved out my own little corner of the world. Until you tree screwed it up," Gabriel explained. Dean started to make jabs at Gabriel's family and continually riled the archangel up.

"I love my family, my brothers. But seeing them turn on each other? Tear at each other's throats? I couldn't bear it! Okay? And now it's happening all over again!" Gabriel ranted.

"Then help us stop it," Sam suggested. Gabriel started laughing and told the hunters that the apocalypse wasn't going to be stopped.

"You want the world to end?" asked Bri incredulously.

"I just want it to be over! I have to sit back and watch my brothers kill each other thanks to you guys! Heaven, hell, I don't care who wins! I just want it to be over," Gabriel ranted.

"It doesn't have to be like that, I mean there has to be some way to pull the plug," Sam commented. Laughing, Gabriel pointed out why Sam and Dean were the vessels.

"No that's not gonna happen," Dean decided.

"I'm sorry, but it is," Gabriel sighed, "Guys, I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow… but this is real. And it's gonna end bloody for all of us. That's just how it's gotta be."

"So, boys and girl, we gonna stare at eachother for all eternity?" Gabriel asked.

"Well first, you're going to bring Cas back from wherever you stashed him," Dean ordered.

"Oh am I?" Gabriel responded. Dean replied with a quick threat of dunking Gabriel in holy oil. Rolling his eyes, Gabriel snapped and Castiel reappeared. The Winchesters, Brianna and Castiel walked out, setting the sprinklers off to extinguish the flames. Bri paused in the doorway and looked back.

"Where do I fit into all of this?" She asked the pouting archangel. Gabriel pushed his hair back off his face and looked at Bri in confusion.

"I mean like what's my role?"

"You're meant to either help Lucifer or stop him completely. I don't know how, I didn't see the whole prophecy before Michael grabbed it. Just do us all a favor, and play your role," Gabriel sighed before disappearing in a flurry of wing beats. The Impala horn sounded twice encouraging Bri to get in the car. Rushing out, she hopped in the back seat.

"Have a nice conversation?" Dean asked.

"I had a sort of important question," Bri replied as Dean started the car and drove off.


End file.
